


New World

by Lazulia



Category: Earth: Final Conflict
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-18
Updated: 2010-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-13 18:25:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazulia/pseuds/Lazulia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Companions arrived, everything changed. Before their first meeting, William Boone and Da'an each reminisce about the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lakester](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lakester/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide!

_  
_  
Present Day   
_   
_

Three years since the Companions landed, and still any mention of or appearance on their part was cause for awed celebration on humanity’s part. Even William Boone had to admit that it was easy to get caught up in the glamour.

Even though frustration was still simmering close to the surface at the inadequate security measures, and bristling at Ronald Sandoval’s attitude, he couldn’t help but watch, mesmerized, as Da’an exited the shuttle and took the stage close to Jonathan Doors. The crowd had already erupted into cheers and applause.

How many of these people had ever seen a Taelon so close? Most humans had only ever seen the Companions on television, in the newspaper, but public appearances were very well regulated and guarded. Well, Boone thought darkly, at least they should be. He had been plucked from his precinct to erect a security plan for the Taelon/Doors International collaboration announcement, which had been summarily ignored. Not much left to do now but keep a vigil eye out, and indulge in his first chance to see a Taelon up close.

Sandoval had said that Da’an wanted to meet him after the conference. He imagined it was to thank him for his assistance. He couldn’t possibly fathom what else the Taelons would want from him.

The crowd fell silent as Da’an prepared to speak. “ _Sinaui Euhura_. I greet you in my native tongue.”

Not the first time, and surely not the last he would hear the strange Taelon language, Boone thought. He remembered a few articles about linguists who were going crazy trying to puzzle out the alien language. Best of luck to them; he certainly wasn’t about to try and figure it out.

Boone had to admit, as he watched how poised and collected Da’an appeared on stage, that for all his reservations about the Taelons, he was curious to meet this particular one in person. Sandoval had been right that neither gendered pronoun really applied to the Taelons; something about Da’an seemed too masculine to be referred to as a “she”, and yet also too feminine to be referred to as a “he”.

“Since my young days,” Da’an began. “Visions of star-space have filled my awareness. Dreams that one day, I might grasp at the jewels of a distant world. I feel delighted to find that world so gracefully and vocally inhabited.”

Boone watched the expression of benevolent admiration on Da’an’s face as he spoke, and wondered what the alien was truly thinking right now, staring out into a crowd of adoring humans. As he listened to the speech, Boone’s own thoughts drifted back to the events of the last few years.

*  
 _  
Four years ago_

 _  
  
_

Infinite stars, infinite possibilities.

It was a peculiar thought: the closer one got to attaining immortality, the more one found the definition of infinity to be ever-shifting. Eventually, Da’an found, there was very little in the universe that was truly infinite. In what should have been a morbid occurrence, thoughts of mortality and death kept resurfacing in Da’an’s mind; especially in times such as these, when there was nothing but time as the Mothership travelled through space, towards Earth.

Quo’on had opted out of conversation during the trip, preferring to spend the remaining few days before their arrival preparing to greet humanity as Synod leader. Zo’or had similarly refused to speak with Da’an as their conversations inevitably turned to verbal sparing.

“Building trust and building bridges will be important, Zo’or,” Da’an said. They had had this particular conversation many times before, but as their arrival became imminent, Zo’or seemed to grow restless and emotional.

“It will be a significant waste of our time and resources,” Zo’or spat. “We know from Ma’el’s notes what is needed from them. We will gain nothing by cajoling them like animals.”

“I, for one, will gladly welcome the new perspectives we will gain once we meet humanity. You may yet find that they surprise you.”

With a dark glare, Zo’or had then stormed away and ceased to speak for the remainder of the trip, leaving Da’an alone to contemplate the possibilities of the distant world ahead.

Yes, they certainly knew all that they could know about humans. However, Da’an was nothing if not intuitive, and he was quite certain that while he and Quo’on and the other Taelons could spend hours pouring over Ma’el’s notes and their own gathered intelligence, there was nothing in there that would truly prepare them to know humanity.

Was it optimism? Naivety? A childish sense of wonder, that drove Da’an to anticipate their arrival to this new world?

It was frightening, given their purpose and the possibilities of things going very wrongly along the way, yet it was also thrilling.

Their time was finite. The sense of loss of their home, of the Taelon homeworld, still keenly stung. All the more reason then, to think of Earth as a new haven, a new sanctuary. A new possibility, a chance for survival.

A new world.

*  
 _  
Three years ago_

The Taelons’ arrival, Boone realized, was to become the defining, unifying event of his generation. Not only did it prove that humankind wasn’t alone in the universe, but it also gave everyone something in common: like his parents’ generation with Kennedy’s assassination, everyone could say exactly where they were when they received word that the Taelons had landed.

Bonne had been at work at the time, at the precinct, fetching coffee and thinking about what he and Kate could do over the weekend when one of the younger officers burst into the communal kitchen, telling them to come see what was happening on television.

Every channel was talking about it. Every human satellite, camera, and reporter was showing it, talking about it, offering an opinion about it. The first contact had been captured on film, Boone remembered, almost as though the then-unknown aliens had been waiting for the perfect shot. At the time, the odd aliens, with their bald heads and turquoise uniforms and glowing blue eyes, had all seemed interchangeable to Boone—lookalike, androgynous creatures.

“People of Earth,” one had spoken. Soothing, motherly. Boone had been unable to resist staring at the television at the precinct, along with everyone else, rapt. Something about the alien seemed to draw an irresistible attention. “We are the Companions. We are here to help.”

And with those words, the course of humanity had been forever altered. For the next few weeks, it was impossible to escape news about the Taelons—or Companions, as they preferred to be called. They were diplomatic and cooperative- a little too cooperative, Boone mused—in every way, requesting to speak with world leaders, offering technology and medicine and assistance whenever it was requested.

Boone frequently came home from work to find Kate glued to the television, eagerly watching the latest news reports of what the Taelons were up to, what new changes their technology was bringing. When the day came that a Taelon Embassy was being built in Washington-- grown rather than built, strange pieces of organic Taelon architecture, oddly incongruent within the brick-and-mortar human cities—Kate had been ecstatic.

“It’s like having a celebrity in the neighbourhood, isn’t it?” she told Boone, as they watched the Embassy growing and shifting in real time on the screen. “They were saying earlier that all regions of Earth are going to have one of these grown. Everyone’s going to get a Companion ambassador. Da’an will be here in North America; do you remember him?”

Boone nodded; after watching enough of the report and interviews and specials about the Taelons, either at the precinct with the guys or at home with Kate, he had come to recognize one Taelon above the rest; Da’an, the unflappable, diplomatic Companion. Da’an had been the first one to speak, all those months ago, the first one to enthrall the world.

“Embassies all over the world,” Boone said, perched on the arm of the couch. “That makes it sound like they need to have eyes and ears all over the place.”

“And you make it sound like there’s something sinister behind it,” Kate said. “They’ve given us so much and asked for nothing back.”

“Some would say that’s the suspicious part.”

“They’re aliens,” Kate said with a light shrug. “They’ve obviously more evolved than us. Couldn’t that mean evolved morality? Doing great acts of kindness just for the sake of kindness? Maybe we could even stand to learn a little from them.”

They’d had this discussion many times before, and Boone always pretended to agree with Kate.

He had to admit that whenever he drove and saw the Taelon embassy in the distance, he couldn’t help but feel a small pang of awe at the sight of the impressive structure, though it was always coupled with that nagging little sense of mistrust.

Theirs was a strange new world indeed.

*  
 _  
Two years ago_

Humans had nothing like the Commonality to unite their thoughts and emotions. As a result, the actions and reactions of humanity as a whole could be staggeringly polarized, difficult to predict, difficult to handle.

“They will pose a serious threat to us, sooner or later,” Zo’or insisted. “We have discussed the possibility in the past and agreed this method may eventually be required.”

Four datastreams trickled into the Embassy in front of Da’an’s seat; Zo’or, Quo’on, and two other Synod members who seemed to have chosen wise silence as their course of action.   
   
It had puzzled some of the Synod members to see how a large number of humans could be so overjoyed and accepting of the Taelons’ presence on Earth, while others reacted with vocal fear, mistrust and violence, the last of which sparked the necessity for a meeting to discuss possible solutions.

“This may foster greater distrust,” Da’an carefully said. It saddened him to think of some humans’ negative reactions to them; the Synod had agreed to not make any public mention of the incidents – protests, angry communications, and the recent vandalism of one of the European embassies—insisting that they maintain a front of unconditional acceptance on humanity’s part.

“The humans merely have questions for us,” Da’an continued. “I find their insatiable curiosity to be refreshing. It may be time to engage them in a dialogue about our purpose here.”

“That is out of the question!” Zo’or said. His energy form glowed indigo for a moment under the heat of his anger. “They are violent, unpredictable savages, and they will not be told anything more than they already know.”

“I fear the Synod may be simply underestimating them.”

“Your lack of alarm worries me,” Zo’or said. “How long do you suppose we can continue to feign ignorance? There is clearly a subset of humans determined to send us away.”

“Humanity is unpredictable,” Da’an relented. “But is that not why they are of such great interest to us?”

“Zo’or marks a point,” Quo’on said. “We must address this issue before Taelon lives are placed at risk.”

“We agreed that the cyber-viral implants and the motivational imperative would be proposed as a solution if they became necessary,” Zo’or said, undulating his fingers for emphasis. “And I propose that they have become necessary.”

“They will not be widely used,” Quo’on quickly added, as though anticipating Da’an’s objection. “We may begin by implanting the humans most closely in our employ; the Protectors, of course. We will expand the program as needed. It is only a question of our survival.”

“If that is the will of the Synod,” Da’an said, bowing his head in agreement. The points were sound, and it was difficult to argue against a harmless implant which would help ensure humanity’s cooperation. And, after all, had they not come to Earth strictly for that purpose—Taelon survival, and humanity’s cooperation?

Still, Da’an could not help the intuitive impression that this new program would fuel the fear and mistrust rather than shield against it.

*  
 _  
One year ago_

As with all things, after the first few years the initial excitement about the Taelons had worn off, and the rumbles and dissent began. For every news channel that happily aired a report on the Taelons, another popped up urging caution, asking humans to reign in their adoration, demanding that the Taelons answer some pointed questions.

As much as Boone had become caught up in the amazement of the Taelon presence at first, he had to admit the dissenters had one very valid question to ask: why were the Taelons here? What was the hidden motive to this benevolence? It gave Boone a greater sense of validation that he was no longer the only human with these questions. Not only that, but it was becoming acceptable to voice these concerns publicly, to the point that most people could be engaged in a debate: were the Taelons here to help, or harm?

“It’s like some kind of mind control device, from the sounds of it. Like a Taelon bug they put in your brain.”

“It’s not like that. That’s not the way I hear it. It’s supposed to be a training device, makes you smarter. Faster.”

Boone took a sip of coffee, listening to the conversation between the two rookies, Lee and Davis. The TV was on in the break room, though the sound was muted; earlier that morning, there had been interviews with several Companion Protectors, which in turn had sparked a debate; rumours had been circulating for a while about the Protectors and about a mysterious piece of Taelon tech which had been implanted inside their brains.

“Maybe it does,” Lee was saying. “But I keep hearing how it makes you loyal to the Taelons. What the hell does that mean? Makes you loyal to the death, maybe? Like they’re building an army of passive, loyal humans?”

“What, like sleeper agents?” Davis smirked. “You saw the people they interviewed, they didn’t look like robots to me. Sounds more like taking an oath to be in the force, or in the military.”

“The force doesn’t stick a chip in your brain to make you loyal. Will, what do you think about all that?”

Boone shrugged lightly. In the corner, the muted television was re-running clips from the earlier interviews; the Protectors didn’t look like mindless drones or sleeper agents to him, but of course a properly brainwashed person wouldn’t _look_ as though they’d been brainwashed, would they?

“If you ask me,” Boone said after a while, carefully measuring his answer. “It’s cause and effect. You’ve got to feel pretty loyal towards the Taelons to begin with if you’re willing to go work for them, and let them implant a chip inside you. It’d hardly be necessary to use mind control at that point, wouldn’t it?”

“Good point,” Davis said. And mercifully, the conversation moved on.  
     
Yet still, even after the channel was done recapping the interviews and had moved to talk of other newsworthy items, the thought of the implants, if their function was true or just rumour, still nagged at Boone. Yes, one would need to feel a startling amount of loyalty towards the Taelons to be willing to go under the knife or needle for them. And if the implant really did brainwash the Protectors to the point of blind obedience, why were so many humans so trusting in the first place, when so many others had simple questions about the Taelons which had not yet been answered?

Boone sighed, finishing his coffee. Maybe it was all blind paranoia. He didn’t spend much time watching the news about the Taelons, certainly not as much as Kate, but he did find himself paying attention whenever Da’an, the North American Companion, was somehow in the news. It was so difficult to believe that a being with so much obvious warmth and genuine interest in humanity could harbour sinister intentions.

Maybe it was the trick of television. If Boone ever got close enough to actually speak to Da’an, maybe then he would have an easier time trying to figure all this out.

*  
 _  
Present day_

The joyous roar of the crowd rose and fell as Da’an continued the speech. While keeping an eye on the surrounding environment, Boone stole whatever glances he could towards Da’an. It was not that the speech itself intrigued him, but the one giving it.

After the press conference, after the photos and the polite bows of heads and the handshakes from Jonathan Doors, he would be meeting with Da’an, with the alien he had followed in the news almost since day one. He wondered what the alien was truly like, away from crowds and cameras. He wondered what sort of conversations one had with such an alien, whether he would have a chance to have any of his questions answered. Not as an accuser, of course, but only as a curious human being.

Only one thing was for certain, Boone thought, whatever the upcoming meeting with Da’an would hold, whatever would happen in the next days, or weeks or even years: everything was about to change.


End file.
